I’m having a moment. A moment of excitement, sadness, bittersweet pride, and mixed into all of that, my moment is being hijacked by pregnancy hormones multiplying it all by 100. My baby girl, now 28 months [I know it’s annoying to not just say “2”...but this is my moment], is spending her first night in her big girl room. We’ve spent the last three months thinking about the decorations, picking out her big girl bed, researching mattresses, and talking up the transition to get her excited about not just giving up her crib, but moving across the hall. Occasionally I had some anxiety and fear about the possibility she wouldn’t stay in her bed, would play all night, would fall out of her bed while asleep. Those are all fears I’m still having as we are only one hour in as I write this.
I was excited. Ready. Excited and ready to re-organize her stuff, clean out stuff we don’t need, and begin putting together Baby Boy Keely’s nursery [Rea’s Old room]. Why we decided to do that on a Sunday night, when I have a super early work day tomorrow, versus a Friday night, I’ll never know. We do things bass ackards I guess.
So today we did it. We put together her big girl room minus a few things were still waiting on to be shipped. And Rea loved helping. We went through her stuffies and divided up what she wanted to keep and what she wanted Baby Brother to have. Same with her books. It went really well. Surprisingly well. Brother is even getting to keep an Elmo. That’s huge.
We tested out naptime and just as I expected, she didn’t really like being alone in a new room. So I laid down with her, and we both napped. She didn’t nap as easily or as long as she normally does in her crib, but I’ll take it. Still worried about the night...
We played the rest of the afternoon in the middle of the absolute mess that was our house after emptying out our only junk room to make way for her big girl things. Every time I would start to clean it up, she’d beg for my attention. “Mommy please play with me.” Ouch. So I complied, reminding myself of my present over perfect journey that I started at the beginning of this year.
Bedtime came, and she started telling us how scary she thought her room was. Here it comes, I thought. No sleep for any of us tonight. We showed her the monitor, let her take turns watching us and talking to us through the other end, and even playing a version of Simon Says to make her understand that we can always see her and she can always talk to us through it. We read a few books and laid down together on her big girl mattress.
We have a “two” rule at our house. If you’re good, we’ll read two books, and [used to be] mommy will rock and sing for two minutes and daddy will rock and sing for two minutes. Then it’s bedtime. No negotiations. Our rocking chair is staying in baby’s room, and I didn’t realize just how sad that would make me. Instead of rocking, I laid with her and sang for two minutes, then left, while Nick laid and sang with her for two minutes. I was convinced it’d be an hour of crying before Nick came out of her room, but only two minutes later, I hear him shut her door and she hadn’t made a sound.
She told Nick after his two minutes that she was still scared and that she’d feel safer if Mia stayed. So Mia is currently in there sleeping with her....I want to laugh, roll my eyes, and cry all at once. I started to clean up, RELIEVED she was fine, and realized I wasn’t. I put some stuff in Baby’s room, and got super emotional seeing the rocking chair. I didn’t rock my girl for the first time in 28 months. Oh these hormones are mean. This shouldn’t be getting to me like this. I decided to just stare at her through the monitor and I saw her start to get out of bed. Great. Here we go.. I showed Nick and just when I started to tell him to tell her to get back in the bed, he smiled. She had gotten out of bed to put her books back where they belong, crawled back in, and laid down.
Bless. This. Sweet. Child. My heart is exploding. I am so proud of her for being brave, for listening, for being a big girl. But I’m so sad that she’s old enough to be so brave and do such big girl things. I am a mess over here thinking about how LONG the days feel but how short the years actually are. Thus my blog post...self-care. We are now an hour and fifteen minutes in, she’s asleep...in her bed. Has not cried. Has not played. Has not screamed or tried to negotiate.
I am fully aware that this could be beginners luck and we will without doubt run into our fair share of frustration with getting her to settle down in the future when a big girl bed offers so much freedom. But for now, I am so so proud, and so so sad that my baby girl is growing up!
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Wednesday, August 8, 2018
oh boy!
As a couple who swore we’d have all girls, we were totally surprised by the results of our gender scan. But BOY are we excited! When I was pregnant with Reaves, we opted to be surprised with everyone else, and find out together, in front of the camera.
This time, we accidentally found out early due to my tendency to ignore fine print disclaimers [long story]. We kept this sweet secret for more than two weeks, even from Reaves. I was so anti-gender reveal this time, truthfully for reasons unknown. Maybe it was because toddler world and pregnancy have me exhausted and totally unmotivated to clean my house. However, Nick was set on having something to celebrate and share the news with our people. He made the argument that what we do for one, we must do for the other. And as a second child myself, I could appreciate his logic. So celebrate we did. We hosted a
I'm pretty sure everyone was convinced we were having a boy. Probably because my pregnancies have been totally different.
This time, we accidentally found out early due to my tendency to ignore fine print disclaimers [long story]. We kept this sweet secret for more than two weeks, even from Reaves. I was so anti-gender reveal this time, truthfully for reasons unknown. Maybe it was because toddler world and pregnancy have me exhausted and totally unmotivated to clean my house. However, Nick was set on having something to celebrate and share the news with our people. He made the argument that what we do for one, we must do for the other. And as a second child myself, I could appreciate his logic. So celebrate we did. We hosted a
"Bun in the Oven, Burgers on the Grill"
cookout for our closest family and friends. The amazing Amy Clifton Keely captured the most precious pictures that evening, of course. I tell ya, we are truly blessed by her talent and friendship. Such an added bonus that she's family :)
I'm pretty sure everyone was convinced we were having a boy. Probably because my pregnancies have been totally different.
- With Reaves, I was constantly sick between weeks 5 and 17. I was on four Diclegis per day to help with nausea. With Baby Boy, no sickness whatsoever.
- With Reaves, I was falling asleep mid-conversation...often, and was dependent on a nap right after work, before dinner. With Baby Boy, I've been tired, but have managed to maintain most of my energy while keeping up with my toddler.
- With Reaves, I gained 15 lbs in the first trimester...couldn't wear my rings past week 10...and had the dreaded pregnancy nose by the time of my gender reveal at 20 weeks. With Baby Boy, I haven't gained a single pound. I've maintained my pre-pregnancy weight, and managed to make it to week 14 before opting for my enso wedding band. My nose...well let's just be honest, it's always big.
- With Reaves, I craved sweets. Anything with sugar. Anything with carbs. Anything edible. With Baby Boy, I don't have many absurd cravings. The only thing I've really wanted that I had to have was orange juice and [one time], broccoli and eggs (together).
Naturally, you wonder if it's the opposite gender of your first when your pregnancy is SO different, but back in our minds, we just knew we were going to be an all-girl kind of family. Nick is really good at being a girl dad, and anyone who knows him, knows he loves to dress up just as much as any little girl [he's going to kill me for that].
We kept it simple. I need easy. I need effortless. I need minimal stress. No crazy decor. No pricey catering. Just burgers on the grill, beer in the cooler [obvi for everyone else], and our loved ones. Oh and cake...there must always be cake.
We kept it simple. I need easy. I need effortless. I need minimal stress. No crazy decor. No pricey catering. Just burgers on the grill, beer in the cooler [obvi for everyone else], and our loved ones. Oh and cake...there must always be cake.
Also, my dad is never wrong. He has predicted every gender, correctly, for everyone in and close to our family. He must have some sort of sixth sense. And of course, his spotless ❤record continues - he voted ALL BOY.
God's plans are always so much better than our own. I think blessing us with a boy is just another example of his grace. He knows we can't handle much more sass in our house right now. Looking forward to Baby Boy Keely joining our family in January!
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
my minivan conundrum
Common question among growing families...
I see this question circulate social media daily. For me? There used to be no question about it. No minivan; not now, not ever. I would've taken this to my grave two years ago. I would honestly laugh at my friends who considered buying one and say that this was goodbye to all things cool and they should go ahead and purchase their mom jeans and fanny pack. Interestingly enough, both of which are back in style.
We have a Toyota Highlander which has a third row, so I figured our first four kids' carseats will fit comfortably. I didn't quite consider the ergonomics of getting them into said carseats. Only one side of our backseat slides forward to allow you to squeeze into the third row... I hope these first two kiddos are old enough to climb back on their own and buckle themselves in, or I'm going to need an athletic trainer for Baby #3. Then again, I'm 30, so time isn't really on my side to become the next American Ninja Warrior. Buckling in my squirmy toddler without banging her head on the top of the car is difficult enough, especially when trying to keep her rear facing as long as possible [she's fine; plenty of brain cells to go around]. I, however, very well may have developed a hernia.
So here's my minivan conundrum.
The doors. Let's talk about the doors. As horrible as I've always thought minivans to be, I am super envious of those sliding doors. This is probably the best thing the minivan has going for it, in my opinion. I didn't truly come to appreciate that amazing function until I tried locking in a carrier to its base in the first few hours of being a mom. Holding the door open, trying not to bang up the car next to me, while single-handedly lifting 15-25 lbs carefully, quietly, and at just the right angle through a small opening to click it into place...and for the first year (for us) in the middle seat. God forbid the child is sleeping, at which point, I apologize to the car next to us. When choosing between the other car and waking my sleeping infant, I choose to sustain the nap. Every time. I honestly avoided going anywhere while on maternity leave if it meant Nick couldn't go with me. The in and out of a parking lot was overwhelming for this reason. Oh how handy handsfree entry would be. I hear they now have come out with Foot-Swipe Sliding Doors [jaw drops]. Job well done. Gosh how I only wish an SUV would come out with sliding doors.
Pre-Reaves, I used to hear moms say "oh but it has a built-in vacuum and a cooler." Big deal, I'd say. Back then, my only thought of needing a cooler was to keep my beer cold, and why would I need that built into my car? That's asking for trouble. And the vacuum? Why can't you just pull into QT and pay $1.00 or do it at home? Just clean your car out regularly like everyone else... HA! Because moms have so much free time and all...
Post-Reaves, about that cooler...
The number of times I'm asked in our 20-minute drive home from daycare for milk, apple juice, oranges, watermelon, popsicles, or yogurt... I would say it totals 20. One request per minute. That cooler = GENIUS and necessary for mama's sanity.
About that vacuum...
Lord. Have. Mercy. My car can be 100% clean on the way to school. Freshly vacuumed, books/toys/diapers organized. By the time we pull into our driveway at the end of that SAME day, it looks as though I've been living out of it for a week, transporting ten teenagers to and from soccer practice...who decided to have a food fight. How does this happen? How can one tiny human make such a mess? God bless those minivans for their built-in vacuums. I'm sorry for undermining your awesomeness.
Easy-speak. Who are these people creating this stuff? Well, parents, for sure. Oh my goodness. A built-in microphone that amplifies your voice to passengers in the backseat. If I'm planning on putting kids in the third row, let me warm up those local cords now. Lots of yelling in my future.
Integrated Window Shades. Seriously? Minivans, you're solving yet another argument for our family. I can't tell you how much money we've spent on trying to find a decent window shade that actually covers the parts of the window where sun shines through. Without fail, sun always manages to peek through, blinding Reaves from all angles...thus a toddler tantrum...thus more demands for snacks. Back to the cooler and vacuum features.
Touchscreen entertainment. We're not big "screen" parents, but desperate times, man...
Infotainment touch screens on the back of each headrest with HDMI and USB options. I'm pretty sure we have to ghetto-rig our iPad to the headrest using cables while utilizing a month's worth of data for Netflix movies when we go on trips.
Stow-n-Go...my mind is so blown, I don't even fully understand this. Some models of minivans have storage systems to store unused seats in underfloor compartments - allowing over 200 seating positions. Is this real? And the Easy Tilt...to allow easy and effortless access to the third row. Well, Highlander, I challenge you. Help a sista out with making this more possible!
Cargo behind the Third Row. There is maybe enough space in my Highlander to fit a flat piece of cardboard behind my third row when it's up. There is no sacrificing cargo space behind a third row in a minivan. I suppose it's unsightly torpedo shape/length is actually quite needed. I'm sure that feature will be at the top of my list of "necessities" when our third child comes along and the third row is being used.
Ultimately, I love my Highlander, but it's got nothing on all of the above. I still like to ride with my windows down jamming to Ludacris every now and then...I can't do this in a minivan [speaking of judgments].
We recently traded Nick's Jeep in for a sedan. During the painful paperwork process, we walked around the floor at the dealership and came across the mac-daddy of all minivans. So mac-daddy, I would've needed a sugar-daddy to afford it. But Nick was intrigued, and that's huge. As parents, we're learning to never say "never." I would have never even considered a minivan, but this season is all about survival as we are about to enter life with two littles. I feel like I'm in the process of crossing over, and I'm embarrassed to admit it, which means I'm not ready to fully commit. I'll just support you minivan moms and admire how efficient your momming game is compared to mine.
Minivan versus SUV?
I see this question circulate social media daily. For me? There used to be no question about it. No minivan; not now, not ever. I would've taken this to my grave two years ago. I would honestly laugh at my friends who considered buying one and say that this was goodbye to all things cool and they should go ahead and purchase their mom jeans and fanny pack. Interestingly enough, both of which are back in style.
We have a Toyota Highlander which has a third row, so I figured our first four kids' carseats will fit comfortably. I didn't quite consider the ergonomics of getting them into said carseats. Only one side of our backseat slides forward to allow you to squeeze into the third row... I hope these first two kiddos are old enough to climb back on their own and buckle themselves in, or I'm going to need an athletic trainer for Baby #3. Then again, I'm 30, so time isn't really on my side to become the next American Ninja Warrior. Buckling in my squirmy toddler without banging her head on the top of the car is difficult enough, especially when trying to keep her rear facing as long as possible [she's fine; plenty of brain cells to go around]. I, however, very well may have developed a hernia.
So here's my minivan conundrum.
The doors. Let's talk about the doors. As horrible as I've always thought minivans to be, I am super envious of those sliding doors. This is probably the best thing the minivan has going for it, in my opinion. I didn't truly come to appreciate that amazing function until I tried locking in a carrier to its base in the first few hours of being a mom. Holding the door open, trying not to bang up the car next to me, while single-handedly lifting 15-25 lbs carefully, quietly, and at just the right angle through a small opening to click it into place...and for the first year (for us) in the middle seat. God forbid the child is sleeping, at which point, I apologize to the car next to us. When choosing between the other car and waking my sleeping infant, I choose to sustain the nap. Every time. I honestly avoided going anywhere while on maternity leave if it meant Nick couldn't go with me. The in and out of a parking lot was overwhelming for this reason. Oh how handy handsfree entry would be. I hear they now have come out with Foot-Swipe Sliding Doors [jaw drops]. Job well done. Gosh how I only wish an SUV would come out with sliding doors.
Pre-Reaves, I used to hear moms say "oh but it has a built-in vacuum and a cooler." Big deal, I'd say. Back then, my only thought of needing a cooler was to keep my beer cold, and why would I need that built into my car? That's asking for trouble. And the vacuum? Why can't you just pull into QT and pay $1.00 or do it at home? Just clean your car out regularly like everyone else... HA! Because moms have so much free time and all...
Post-Reaves, about that cooler...
The number of times I'm asked in our 20-minute drive home from daycare for milk, apple juice, oranges, watermelon, popsicles, or yogurt... I would say it totals 20. One request per minute. That cooler = GENIUS and necessary for mama's sanity.
About that vacuum...
Lord. Have. Mercy. My car can be 100% clean on the way to school. Freshly vacuumed, books/toys/diapers organized. By the time we pull into our driveway at the end of that SAME day, it looks as though I've been living out of it for a week, transporting ten teenagers to and from soccer practice...who decided to have a food fight. How does this happen? How can one tiny human make such a mess? God bless those minivans for their built-in vacuums. I'm sorry for undermining your awesomeness.
Easy-speak. Who are these people creating this stuff? Well, parents, for sure. Oh my goodness. A built-in microphone that amplifies your voice to passengers in the backseat. If I'm planning on putting kids in the third row, let me warm up those local cords now. Lots of yelling in my future.
Integrated Window Shades. Seriously? Minivans, you're solving yet another argument for our family. I can't tell you how much money we've spent on trying to find a decent window shade that actually covers the parts of the window where sun shines through. Without fail, sun always manages to peek through, blinding Reaves from all angles...thus a toddler tantrum...thus more demands for snacks. Back to the cooler and vacuum features.
Touchscreen entertainment. We're not big "screen" parents, but desperate times, man...
Infotainment touch screens on the back of each headrest with HDMI and USB options. I'm pretty sure we have to ghetto-rig our iPad to the headrest using cables while utilizing a month's worth of data for Netflix movies when we go on trips.
Stow-n-Go...my mind is so blown, I don't even fully understand this. Some models of minivans have storage systems to store unused seats in underfloor compartments - allowing over 200 seating positions. Is this real? And the Easy Tilt...to allow easy and effortless access to the third row. Well, Highlander, I challenge you. Help a sista out with making this more possible!
Cargo behind the Third Row. There is maybe enough space in my Highlander to fit a flat piece of cardboard behind my third row when it's up. There is no sacrificing cargo space behind a third row in a minivan. I suppose it's unsightly torpedo shape/length is actually quite needed. I'm sure that feature will be at the top of my list of "necessities" when our third child comes along and the third row is being used.
Ultimately, I love my Highlander, but it's got nothing on all of the above. I still like to ride with my windows down jamming to Ludacris every now and then...I can't do this in a minivan [speaking of judgments].
We recently traded Nick's Jeep in for a sedan. During the painful paperwork process, we walked around the floor at the dealership and came across the mac-daddy of all minivans. So mac-daddy, I would've needed a sugar-daddy to afford it. But Nick was intrigued, and that's huge. As parents, we're learning to never say "never." I would have never even considered a minivan, but this season is all about survival as we are about to enter life with two littles. I feel like I'm in the process of crossing over, and I'm embarrassed to admit it, which means I'm not ready to fully commit. I'll just support you minivan moms and admire how efficient your momming game is compared to mine.
Now if a model comes out with a way to heat up cold coffee, or keep my kids shoes on...I'm sold. Sign me up.
Friday, July 20, 2018
oh baby!
I've been MIA from the blog lately...the past three months to be exact. And for good reason, in typical mom fashion. We have news! Such great news! News that we feel abundantly blessed to be able to share. As most anyone who is friends with us on social media knows,
WE'RE EXPECTING!!
We have known for so long, and are finally cleared to scream it from the mountaintop. Sweet Marian Reaves will be taking on the title of Big Sister in January, and she is super excited...for now.
 |
| Cue the cuteness! |
We were pumped to tell our family and friends, but this time, due to various health concerns, we waited. Our journey for baby number 2 wasn't quite as simple as it was when we were trying with Reaves. Reaves was a one stop shop kinda pregnancy. It took us one try, and wanting to be the mother of a basketball team, I naturally thought it would happen just as easily with Babe #2. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
We had more difficulty conceiving this time go 'round. After many rounds of bloodwork, a few scans, some tumor talk, and several pass-out spells later, it was ultimately determined I was post-menopausal. There's a punch in the gut right after turning 30. (See previous post for how I handled that transition - hint: not well). My body after having Reaves was confused. Extremely confused.
After unsuccessfully conceiving naturally for quite some time, and no clear answers from tests results, we ended up doing one round of fertility medication, with the plan of three months before additional testing. Insert God's grace. It worked.
I have a few good friends who have experienced far worse, and my heart aches for how they must've felt, because for a long time, my heart was broken and hope felt unattainable. During this long process, there was talk of me possibly never being able to have children again, and that hurt. It felt like I was being completely robbed of my "responsibility" as a woman; to bear children.
I understand too many women, several that I know and love dearly, have struggled more than I have, faced more complicated conception issues than mine, lost pregnancies...children. I am not, and will not, compare my situation to theirs. But to say I didn't at first would be a lie.
I found myself feeling guilty for hurting. Feeling the expectation to cast fear aside instead of talking to someone, afraid of being considered insensitive to those who have faced harder battles. I tried forcing myself to stay positive and grateful for the child I do have rather than shedding tears over her future sisters and brothers that I so badly wanted in our family. I should be thankful. I have friends who can't have any more children, or any at all. How dare I be sad over my struggle? I felt like my pool of folks to talk to was limited - I told myself, "Only those who haven't struggled. I don't want to sound like a whiny jerk." That's a terrible place to be...those who haven't struggled may not criticize me for being insensitive, but they also couldn't relate and gave me all the feel-goods "it'll all work out," "sure you'll have more kids!" "nothing's wrong, I just know it." I'm not insinuating that those comments are demeaning - sometimes that positivity is helpful. But mostly, I just needed someone who understood my fear, my anxiety over losing what my heart sooo badly desired.
And then now, how dare I be happy? When I'm surrounded by so much hurt. Just in the last few days, I've talked with three women who have lost their babies in utero, all due around the same time I am. How insensitive am I to be pregnant as I sit here and am devastated for these women having these heartbreaking conversations?
I have realized lately that just because someone else suffers more than you, doesn't mean your suffering doesn't matter. I don't know if it's our rapidly increasing comparative culture that has pushed this stress of greater than less than, or what, but I'm done with it. I was sad. Super sad. I was hurt. Super hurt. I was scared. Terrified. And I was angry.
Now I'm grateful. Super grateful. Relieved. Excited. And humbled by the opportunity God has given me to have another child. How dare I not rejoice in Him? This may be our last, or maybe it won't. Who knows...but I will no longer feel guilty. I don't have to choose between being a good friend/confidant over being an excited, expectant mother. I don't have to choose between someone else's struggle and my own. There is no comparison.
Instead, I stand beside any woman who has struggled, greater than or less than, I have, and hope that if you're a greater than struggler, you will never suppress the feelings of those who have suffered less than you. It's all suffering. Be sensitive, regardless of which end of the spectrum you fall. If you feel less than, don't. Your struggle matters. Your struggle is part of your story, and your story is perfectly written by Our Creator. Rejoice.
We told our families the week we went to the beach with our Keely family. Lucky us, our sister-in-law is an amazing photographer and has captured all of Reaves' big moments on camera. Therefore, we got some amazing shots with her for Baby #2:
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
my tired mother's day wishlist
Since my birthday and Mother's Day are so close together, around this time each year I get a lot of questions from family needing gift ideas...
Truth is, I don't actually need anything other than clothes that fit...because if I'm being brutally honest, I've been squishing myself into my pre-baby clothes since 2016, and what doesn't already have holes, will soon. No shame, I still wear all of it.
But more than that, I've been thinking about things that I really want this year...like really want. More than clothes, more than make-up [since I'm out and it's not budgeted for this paycheck], more than an overpriced mani-pedi that will be ruined in 3 days from the duties of motherhood, more than a massage...wait, I take that back. Throw that one in.
Below is my Tired Mother's Day Wishlist:
- I'd like for Mother's Day to be declared Opposite Day. We are in what seems to be a never-ending "mommy do's it" phase. "Mommy read it. Mommy get it. Mommy rock. Mommy sit. Mommy go. Mommy come. Mommy, Mom, Mama, Ma, MOMMY, MOM, MOM." If Mother's Day were Opposite Day, Daddy do's it all.
- I'd like to take a break from the Keely Carpool for one day, and drive home in silence. I love carpooling with the hubs, don't get me wrong. It's time and cost efficient and who doesn't love that? But... when hubs drives, Mommy tends to just about er'thing else in Toddler World. "Raisins, BootSnacks [aka, Fruit Snacks], elmoooo....book, pictures, WHOLE WORLD, music," + a whole lot of jibberish that even she doesn't understand = a whole lot of noisy chaos. I would like to drive home, at a relaxing 30mph, in complete solitude and silence.
- If I can't have number two, I'll settle for a full day without our NPT [No Papi Tantrum] Playlist blaring in my car, house, and brain:
- He's Got the Whole World in His Hands
- The Alphabet Song
- Baby Bumblebee [DEAR LORD who wrote this song?!]
- Skinny Marinky Dinky Dink
- An untimed, unscheduled, uninterrupted nap. Every mom is scratching her head right now, "what is that?" Oh, wait...I almost forgot... without the baby monitor.
- If all of the above is just too unrealistic, I would settle for dinner and a movie for ONE. Yes, one. I love my husband, but we can do date night on our anniversary or any other day. Often times, we end up reminding ourselves of things we need to do or not forget. I need to snooze the reminders/forget the checklist for about 3 hours. Honestly, no conversation with anyone, period, would be glorious. Does that make me terrible? It's just one time..
- A full cup of HOT coffee....Disclosure: heating it up 2-3 times over an hour does not count.
- Last, but of course, not least, being stingy with my dinner. I would love to be the only one eating what I have ordered myself for one day. I love Reavey's little fingers, but not on my plate or smushed into my mac and cheese.
To all you husbands, you're welcome. To mine, any of the above will do. But subtlety out the window, #1 would be the real MVP of Mother's Day gifts.
Happy Early Mother's Day to all you tired mamas!
29+1
Adulting. This is happening. Ready...or not.
I turn 29 [again] tomorrow, as if the sound of the number [29+1] isn't explanation enough of why this growing older thing can kiss my big toe. I've never been one to dread birthdays. I was always a "looking forward to the next big thing" kinda gal. Well this is big, I suppose.
However, it was like I blinked and the thrill and excitement of turning 21 that I had so long anticipated was over. Well that was fun [sarcasm]. Ok, continue.
Bill Engvall fans: here's your sign.
And now....
here.
Not really sure what milestone this marks other than documenting an excuse on paper for my bones to ache and joints to crack when I move from sit to stand. Or sit to sit back. Whichever.
I turn 29 [again] tomorrow, as if the sound of the number [29+1] isn't explanation enough of why this growing older thing can kiss my big toe. I've never been one to dread birthdays. I was always a "looking forward to the next big thing" kinda gal. Well this is big, I suppose.
- First, there was 5....a whole hand old. Big school, big deal to a kid.
- Then there was 10.....two hands. I might as well be driving.
- Then 13....."Officially a teenager." I’m practically an adult. God bless my parents.
- Then 16.....Driving... My first taste of independence. Dear...Lord.
- 18.....the ability to vote (my knowledge of politics at this age was summed up by the movie Legally Blonde...) + legal independence & the ability to buy tobacco [yay lungs]
- 21...The ultimate birthday! Or so thought my 21-year-old arrogant, prideful, don't tread on me, self.
"Ha. [smug face] You'd like to see my ID? ba-
BAM! I'm 21. Go ahead, ask me my birthday."
[extreme eye roll].
However, it was like I blinked and the thrill and excitement of turning 21 that I had so long anticipated was over. Well that was fun [sarcasm]. Ok, continue.
- 25...Insurance goes down [all the praise hands!]
Bill Engvall fans: here's your sign.
And now....
- 30...there I said it.... Hm...the year for...eh...someone help me out,
here.
Not really sure what milestone this marks other than documenting an excuse on paper for my bones to ache and joints to crack when I move from sit to stand. Or sit to sit back. Whichever.
- I’m THREE flashes of both hands. That just takes too long. Or six whole hands of old. Nope...
- I have now been driving for 1/2 of my lifetime. And most of the time, now, I'd actually prefer to ride/be driven. Most days I’m a passenger in the Keely Carpool to work [perks of working with your hubs] and I love it. I get an extra 15 minutes of sleep on the way to daycare every day. It’s a sweet deal for a tired mama.
- Politics. Sorry, Elle Woods. I'm learning there's more to it than pink skirt suits. I am eager to vote because I actually have an opinion, not just because the law says I can. I read policy, I watch debates, I think for myself, for my family.
- Cigarette smoke now makes me vomit and I can have conversation after conversation about why taxes need to be higher on tobacco products.
- Insurance premiums begin to go back up...because I'm no spring chicken anymore and I've got a health history [or five] to disclose.
- And my favorite: "Hey hey hey...don't you need to see my ID...to make sure I'm of age to order this glass of wine?" Bless the waitress that cards someone else at my table and not me. No tip for you! (Joking...calm down fellow servers)
In all actuality, though the sound of the number has me all in a tizzy, I am super thankful for who I am going into my third decade versus who I was going into my second. I was a child of trend. Whatever was cool, whatever was "in," whatever it took to gain the approval, acceptance, attention of others. Yikes.
In the past decade I have let so much of that worthlessness go. Some intentionally, some unintentionally. And as a result, I have found much the opposite of my preconceived notions of getting older to be true. As a twenty-something I craved independence. I made a ton of mistakes, most of which I couldn't own because of hella-pride. I wanted to do it all on my own, but the minute I messed up, heyyyy, not my fault. I idolized sin and placed my confidence in people/things that did indeed disappoint me. Over the course of the past few years, the more independence I've gained, the more I've realized how dependent I am on my Creator. The more responsibility entrusted to me, the more I see just how inadequate I am without His guidance and grace.
Somewhere in the last ten years I crossed to the other side... to the side of agreeing that mom and dad were actually right [how do those words taste?!] They weren't ruining my life, they were teaching and protecting me. They "weren't so-and-so's parents"[a comment that was used often in our house and drove me nuts]. They did know best. It was their lack of trust in other people - not their lack of trust in me. They weren't as "out of touch" as I had thought. It all makes sense as I go into this next decade, now a mother myself.
I was talking with some friends at church this past Sunday about my struggle with turning 30, and how I was refusing to acknowledge my birthday this week. They spoke a little truth into me that is changing my perspective. They said that their 30s has been a season of contentment. That's a beautiful thing for someone who constantly found satisfaction in 'more.' Last year, we decided to focus our energy on "less." Less house, less stuff, less money, less self-consumption. It's been a great segway into this new decade. We have come to place less value in our paychecks, the size of our home, what's in our closet, what taunts us from the shelves of Target (which is my biggest struggle to date).
I by no means have things figured out. Let's be real, most days I'm still a mess. I still want my farmhouse, acreage, a basketball team family with 5+ kids, chickens, goats and every rug and pillow that I pass at Target. But I am incredibly grateful for the growth that has taken place in the last ten years. So with that in mind, I say bring on 30. Gravity may be playing jokes, my hair may be re-considering its position, my hormones may be spiteful, my metabolism may be peacing out...or laughing...I can't figure her out, and my face may now be welcoming in too many friends that go by the name of 'wrinkles,' but my soul is finding nourishment in the amazing things God intended for us to enjoy here. And that's reason enough to celebrate. Here's to 30! And probiotics...gotta get on that...
In the past decade I have let so much of that worthlessness go. Some intentionally, some unintentionally. And as a result, I have found much the opposite of my preconceived notions of getting older to be true. As a twenty-something I craved independence. I made a ton of mistakes, most of which I couldn't own because of hella-pride. I wanted to do it all on my own, but the minute I messed up, heyyyy, not my fault. I idolized sin and placed my confidence in people/things that did indeed disappoint me. Over the course of the past few years, the more independence I've gained, the more I've realized how dependent I am on my Creator. The more responsibility entrusted to me, the more I see just how inadequate I am without His guidance and grace.
Somewhere in the last ten years I crossed to the other side... to the side of agreeing that mom and dad were actually right [how do those words taste?!] They weren't ruining my life, they were teaching and protecting me. They "weren't so-and-so's parents"[a comment that was used often in our house and drove me nuts]. They did know best. It was their lack of trust in other people - not their lack of trust in me. They weren't as "out of touch" as I had thought. It all makes sense as I go into this next decade, now a mother myself.
I was talking with some friends at church this past Sunday about my struggle with turning 30, and how I was refusing to acknowledge my birthday this week. They spoke a little truth into me that is changing my perspective. They said that their 30s has been a season of contentment. That's a beautiful thing for someone who constantly found satisfaction in 'more.' Last year, we decided to focus our energy on "less." Less house, less stuff, less money, less self-consumption. It's been a great segway into this new decade. We have come to place less value in our paychecks, the size of our home, what's in our closet, what taunts us from the shelves of Target (which is my biggest struggle to date).
I by no means have things figured out. Let's be real, most days I'm still a mess. I still want my farmhouse, acreage, a basketball team family with 5+ kids, chickens, goats and every rug and pillow that I pass at Target. But I am incredibly grateful for the growth that has taken place in the last ten years. So with that in mind, I say bring on 30. Gravity may be playing jokes, my hair may be re-considering its position, my hormones may be spiteful, my metabolism may be peacing out...or laughing...I can't figure her out, and my face may now be welcoming in too many friends that go by the name of 'wrinkles,' but my soul is finding nourishment in the amazing things God intended for us to enjoy here. And that's reason enough to celebrate. Here's to 30! And probiotics...gotta get on that...
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
#twomuch: intro
Two. Ready or not, we're here. We've arrived. People warn you, but no one can truly prepare you. I preface with this: I absolutely love being a mama, more specifically for my current season, a mama of a toddler. It is so incredibly sweet and fun.
But I'd be lying if I said I don't remind myself every day that "this too shall pass." And I don't mean in a "soak it up, you're gonna miss this" kinda way. I mean, "just keep going, you can do it, don't lose your...." kinda way. I eventually come around to know I will indeed miss this one day...but the reality is it's exhausting, eye-twitchingly frustrating at times, and hard. Very hard. I second guess everything I say and even more so everything I do. I hear my same words repeated back to me, jabbing me where it hurts. It ultimately makes me feel guilty, even though I know discipline is necessary to raise her to be a decent human.
Ever wonder how you're doing at this parenting thing? Wait until your toddler finds interest in pretend play. That's been insightful. The way she talks to her babies, to her stuffed animals, to the imaginary dinner guests she's cooking for...
I hear her 'discipline' her baby dolls, "NO MAYUM", putting them in timeout, giving them spankings, telling them to "hush" and "hurry UP!" "Don't do that...ugh!" Wait, where did you learn that? Oh...
I hear her little attitude in how she speaks to Mia, to Elmo, to us, to her teachers... How do you explain to a toddler the concept of authority? Especially when I'm still learning how to come under authority myself. "You can't spank mommy or put mommy in time out for not singing the A,B,C song while she was on the phone after you asked her to three times. But mommy can put Reaves in timeout for throwing and not cleaning up her toys after being asked three times. Hm. How do you communicate the difference between those two things? I'm genuinely asking. Establishing authority versus leading her by example without unknowingly putting ourselves under their authority. If you're not careful, it's easy to comply with all of their demands. I find myself just wanting to avoid an irrational tantrum. Amiright?
But then I hear her say her prayers. Insert all of the bawling hysterically emjois here .She has just started praying her own prayers... talking to Jesus about the people in her life. [Don't get me wrong. She often throws in prayers for a paci, people's beards (your guess is as good as mine), her blanket, lions, grapes, the color purple...] There is no shame or shyness about praying out loud or not making sense, something all of us adults tend to feel embarrassed about, self-included. Just talking, resting, finding calmness and peace.
I hear her "i love you"s, the "i kiss it"s, the "i help you"s. I watch her carefully tuck her babies into bed, reassure them they are safe, affirm them that she's going to take care of them. I watch her share, I watch her show concern, I watch her bond with others. I witness her gentleness with younger kiddos and her confidence with older ones. I watch her explore, learn, problem-solve, serve us by helping with daily tasks. Maybe I'm not totally screwing her up. Her free spirit is so contagious. She loves to have fun, to dance, to sing, to act silly. Many times I wish I could be just like her. She's so much cooler than me.
These moments make the tantrums and the challenges worth it. I saw a motherhood meme one time that said "I never knew how much I could ruin someone's day by asking them to put their pants on...until I had a toddler" Yaaas. Whew. I'm not the only one. In a nut shell.
We have begun to refer to this year as #twomuch, for reasons such as putting on pants.
That's what we're learning "two" is, too much! Too much sass, too much attitude, too much confusion, too much fun, too much crying, too much laughing, too much learning, too much hugging, too much screaming, too much dancing, too much exploring, occasionally too much to handle. Too much everything...great and challenging. I love being a toddler mama, it is the greatest challenge.
I've decided to do a little blog breakout series this year as a way to document the humor I have to find in the #twomuch season. I want to remember even the most challenging of moments...and for goodness sakes, we have to laugh, or all we will do is cry. I plan to randomly post moments where toddlerhood in our house is just #twomuch. Whether it be too much fun, or too much to handle. Fellow mamas, feel free to join me by sharing your #twomuch moments, as well. I love knowing [err..hoping?] I'm not the only toddler mama out there trying to find humor in moments that might otherwise bring us to our knees in defeat. This should be fun.
I'll go first.
But I'd be lying if I said I don't remind myself every day that "this too shall pass." And I don't mean in a "soak it up, you're gonna miss this" kinda way. I mean, "just keep going, you can do it, don't lose your...." kinda way. I eventually come around to know I will indeed miss this one day...but the reality is it's exhausting, eye-twitchingly frustrating at times, and hard. Very hard. I second guess everything I say and even more so everything I do. I hear my same words repeated back to me, jabbing me where it hurts. It ultimately makes me feel guilty, even though I know discipline is necessary to raise her to be a decent human.
Ever wonder how you're doing at this parenting thing? Wait until your toddler finds interest in pretend play. That's been insightful. The way she talks to her babies, to her stuffed animals, to the imaginary dinner guests she's cooking for...
I hear her 'discipline' her baby dolls, "NO MAYUM", putting them in timeout, giving them spankings, telling them to "hush" and "hurry UP!" "Don't do that...ugh!" Wait, where did you learn that? Oh...
I hear her little attitude in how she speaks to Mia, to Elmo, to us, to her teachers... How do you explain to a toddler the concept of authority? Especially when I'm still learning how to come under authority myself. "You can't spank mommy or put mommy in time out for not singing the A,B,C song while she was on the phone after you asked her to three times. But mommy can put Reaves in timeout for throwing and not cleaning up her toys after being asked three times. Hm. How do you communicate the difference between those two things? I'm genuinely asking. Establishing authority versus leading her by example without unknowingly putting ourselves under their authority. If you're not careful, it's easy to comply with all of their demands. I find myself just wanting to avoid an irrational tantrum. Amiright?
But then I hear her say her prayers. Insert all of the bawling hysterically emjois here .She has just started praying her own prayers... talking to Jesus about the people in her life. [Don't get me wrong. She often throws in prayers for a paci, people's beards (your guess is as good as mine), her blanket, lions, grapes, the color purple...] There is no shame or shyness about praying out loud or not making sense, something all of us adults tend to feel embarrassed about, self-included. Just talking, resting, finding calmness and peace.
I hear her "i love you"s, the "i kiss it"s, the "i help you"s. I watch her carefully tuck her babies into bed, reassure them they are safe, affirm them that she's going to take care of them. I watch her share, I watch her show concern, I watch her bond with others. I witness her gentleness with younger kiddos and her confidence with older ones. I watch her explore, learn, problem-solve, serve us by helping with daily tasks. Maybe I'm not totally screwing her up. Her free spirit is so contagious. She loves to have fun, to dance, to sing, to act silly. Many times I wish I could be just like her. She's so much cooler than me.
These moments make the tantrums and the challenges worth it. I saw a motherhood meme one time that said "I never knew how much I could ruin someone's day by asking them to put their pants on...until I had a toddler" Yaaas. Whew. I'm not the only one. In a nut shell.
We have begun to refer to this year as #twomuch, for reasons such as putting on pants.
That's what we're learning "two" is, too much! Too much sass, too much attitude, too much confusion, too much fun, too much crying, too much laughing, too much learning, too much hugging, too much screaming, too much dancing, too much exploring, occasionally too much to handle. Too much everything...great and challenging. I love being a toddler mama, it is the greatest challenge.
I've decided to do a little blog breakout series this year as a way to document the humor I have to find in the #twomuch season. I want to remember even the most challenging of moments...and for goodness sakes, we have to laugh, or all we will do is cry. I plan to randomly post moments where toddlerhood in our house is just #twomuch. Whether it be too much fun, or too much to handle. Fellow mamas, feel free to join me by sharing your #twomuch moments, as well. I love knowing [err..hoping?] I'm not the only toddler mama out there trying to find humor in moments that might otherwise bring us to our knees in defeat. This should be fun.
I'll go first.
 |
| Because it's Monday, but hey, I get it, it's #twomuch for me, too. |
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| #twomuch sass. |
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